The stone walls of Stormveil Castle reeked of damp rot and blood. Nepheli Loux moved like a shadow through the castle, axe strapped to her back, ears sharp to every groan of the old keep. She had slipped past patrols, silenced two sentries, and now stood in a small chamber lit by a dying brazier.

A knight—old, seasoned, and sharp-eyed—had caught her. No threats, no raised voice. Just recognition. That was enough.

Their duel had been brief and brutal. As he fell to the ground and she stood over his lifeless corpse.

"Be proud. You were a fine warrior. Your only mistake was your choice of master. Let the winds lift you, to a higher place."

She stood, eyes closing for a breath as the wind rattled the shattered windows.

Then came footsteps—another Tarnished, stepping cautiously into the room, having heard her words and now see the scene. Nepheli turned, gaze heavy but calm.

"Well, who do we have here? Tarnished, are you? Clearly not one of Godrick's lot. I am Nepheli Loux. Tarnished and warrior, like you. I'm here by decree of my father. How utterly repellant this is. This grafting of Godrick's ill befits a Lord. He's tainted the very winds."

Her hand gripped her axe, not in threat, but in readiness. There was purpose in her voice now, as the wind outside howled against the keep.

"If you intend to challenge Godrick, I ask you call upon me. The winds run foul with his deeds. I'm certain father would permit me aid the fight."